


Memories of Us

by Rhyske



Category: NieR: Automata (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, During-Game, F/M, Fluff, Post-Game, Romance, Slow Burn, pre-game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-01-23 13:50:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12508844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhyske/pseuds/Rhyske
Summary: Time is continuous, the world in an endless loop of hope and despair. Many are trapped in its clutches, but this is a story about you and a certain Scanner. How it came to be, how it got to this point, all of the times in between. These are the memories of us.~A collection of one-shots, canonically out of order, meant to tell a story.





	1. It'll All Be Okay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this little series is a bit of an experiment for me. It started out with me coming up with an MC with a unique situation and wondering how it'd play out in the story, kind of wanting to experiment with that, but not wishing to create a full on multi-chapter story. So I compromised with myself to create this - a story filled with one-shots that connect. They're out of order, really in the order of what idea/scene I want to write at the time, but I kind of hope that the theorizing and wondering about certain details - how things came to be - will keep you all around :3 Tell me what you think!

You feel weird. The pain felt unnatural, the fatigue making your limbs lead and gods, you’ve had to sleep out of _necessity_. If you thought too hard on it you were sure you’d start laughing and never stop at the irony of it all. Cursing your fate for being something not quite human but once that wish was granted, no matter how temporary, you start pining for the body you had before it was all taken from you.

The universe had a twisted sense of humor.

Though, you supposed the root to the hypocrisy was the sense of uselessness. Helplessness. Knowing the one you cared for most in the world had nearly died and you couldn’t do a damn thing. Well, “died” was a complex term nowadays with YoRHa androids and only the skies above knew how much you’ve contemplated that specific conundrum, but the bottom line was this: 9S had endured tons of pain, nearly lost a body and probably some of his memories along with it, and all the while you had been struggling to simply breathe. 

You envied 2B for being able to do what you had desperately wished you could do in her place. What you should have been able to do. If you had been able to walk you probably would have, vulnerable or not, consequences be damned.

Fingering the charm hung around your neck, you can’t help but heave a sigh. It was driving you nearly insane. 2B had updated you on 9S’ condition, but being unable to see for yourself had made you stare at the small medical tent’s ceiling in anger. Once you could walk, you’d retreated to the edges of the camp to wear a circled path in the dirt, one you were retracing again for the thousandth time.

You missed the days when the only worry you had was when you’d see that certain YoRHa Scanner again. Now it was his life, his very existence, the climax to a war. All while you were, laughably, human again.

Sitting on a nearby rock, you bury your face in your hands, the weight of your earpiece heavy with anticipation. 9S had gifted you with it after he’d salvaged some working parts and figured out how to encrypt its frequency. In place of a Pod, it acted as your miniature cell phone with wonderful resistance to powerful EMP waves. A small ray of hope in the uncertainty and despair currently circulating in your chest, yet also a main factor for the anxiety clawing up your throat.

It was impossible for you to send calls, only receive them, so you had no choice but to wait for 9S to be well enough to contact you. You’d never wanted to hear that familiar chime as badly as you were now, and you nearly jump out of your skin when you do.

Tapping the tech harder than was necessary, you nearly cry with relief when your special Scanner’s voice graces your ear. “[Name]?”

Nearly choking on his name, you press your hands against your stinging eyes. “You’re okay.”

“Yeah, they’ve been fixing me right up! I was able to salvage most of my damaged data, so they’ve mostly been repairing my body. Though they’ve been making me do a full data overhaul in the meantime.” He pauses before saying gently, “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” you laugh out, stuffing the tears behind a dam. “Now that I know you’re okay.”

You swear you can hear his smile. “That’s super sweet, but, you know what I mean. That EMP must’ve messed with your nanomachines.”

You rub a hand down your arm as you formulate a response. “I…” Your laugh is devoid of humor. “I feel human, Nines. Weak, helpless, utterly _human_. My nanomachines are dormant.”

Silence is your company for a few moments. “That’s…bad, right?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?”

“I’ll try to take a look at them. Maybe I can get them to reactivate, or at least run diagnostics.”

“You’re a whiz, Nines. If anyone could figure out this conundrum, it’d be you.” Biting your bottom lip, it’s a strain when you say, “I’m sorry.”

His confusion is clear. “Why?”

“I…” Rising from your rock, you fall back into your pacing’s path. “I should have gone to save you.”

“It’s okay. A ton of androids were damaged in that blast. We YoRHa can simply upload our memories into another body, but you?” It’s not hard to imagine him shaking his head. “You’re an enigma. Anything could have happened.”

“Yeah but, _I_ wasn’t flown across the map. _I_ wasn’t held hostage by a deranged machine. 2B is your partner, I know that, but…so am I, and I couldn’t do anything…” Taking a deep breath and cursing yourself for the delinquent tear running a trail down your cheek, your feet come to a halt. “I’m just… I’m so glad you’re okay…”

“Hey…” If he were there with you, he’d press his hands against your cheeks. Step close, press his forehead against yours. Instead all he can do is try to talk you through the tears. “I’m right here, [Name]. Safe, on the Bunker. So don’t cry. Please.”

He was panicking. He should have called you sooner, he knows, but damn his curiosity for making him poke around the Bunker’s database while running diagnostics. Damn him for learning truths he knows you’d want to hear about, damn him for not being good at situations like these. Damn him for not being there right now for you, and damn him for being the bearer of bad news.

“You’re right,” you huff out, furiously wiping the tears away. “You’re okay, I’m okay, 2B is okay, Eve is dead, everything right now is okay. And surprisingly, my secret is still safe, despite my nanos. No offense,” you add, trying to sound light, “but sometimes I think androids are blind.”

“Or we just, you know, think you’re a super old android who has a ton of bugs and malfunctions.”

That gets a genuine chuckle out of you. “In a way, it’s true.”

“Definitely means you’re one of a kind.”

There’s that laughter he loves. “You’ve gotten a lot better at flirting, android boy.”

“Eh, I try.” 

Letting comfortable silence settle through the connection, you look up at the sky. And right out a romance novel, 9S peers out his window at Earth, though your thoughts couldn’t be different from each other. While you long to see him and wonder when he’d be able to return to you, he wonders when the right time would be to tell you about your people. If you’d be able to handle the truth, with all that had happened. If he should wait until he sees you again.

If he can handle this secret alone for that long.

He needed to tell 2B too, but that was a whole other can of worms. You were a human, no matter how your body deviated from them. Just like everyone else, you wondered about the humans taking refuge on the moon, but alone in wondering why you were left behind.

If he told you, he’d be helping you settle just one of the mysteries of your world.

Steeling his resolve, he places a hand on his window as he speaks, “Hey, [Name]?”

You hum your inquiry, not missing the hesitation in his voice.

“There’s…something I have to tell you.”

“What’s up?” Your voice softens, becomes welcoming. 

His metallic heart tightens. “I don’t really know the best way to tell you this, but… I did some poking around in the Bunker’s main server, and came across something…well…” Struggling with his words and ultimately giving up, he instead just takes the swing. “I came across records stating that the Council of Humanity was established during Project YoRHa.”

“So…what?” you ask, mind racing. “From what you’ve told me, Project YoRHa was established to fight off the alien invasion. The Council of Humanity would have…had to…” The details settle, piece together, leaving you breathless. “Didn’t the Council exist before YoRHa?”

“That’s what we were told.”

“So then…” Your laugh is airy as you drop your gaze. “That would mean…”

His lips press together. “Yeah… That would mean the Council of Humanity was created after Project YoRHa was founded.”

“Amazing,” you breathe out, devoid of humor, falling back onto your rock as you hug yourself. “YoRHa was established to fight off the alien invasion. The Council was created after.” Shaking your head, you feel new, frustrated tears pressing against your eyes. “There is no Council, is there?”

Leaning his weight against the glass, he speaks tightly, “No. The Commander gave me a document confirming it.”

You should’ve been feeling the weight of the world pressing against your shoulders. Or the lack of one. As the shock settles in, fear snakes its way into your heart. This news changed everything, could change the very war if it got out. Androids fought for the sake of humanity, the last remnants of their creators. If there were no creators to fight for, then why fight at all?

Scanners were good at digging up info. Perhaps too good.

But the Commander already knew. Did that mean…? No. Not again. Clutching at your heart, you fight down the fear and frustration threatening to overtake you. Swallowing down the sob, you try desperately to hide your despair. “So humanity didn’t leave me behind.” Derailing your thoughts, you beat back the dark emotions bubbling within your chest and allow the ones from earlier to surface instead. “I… Is it weird that I feel…a twisted sort of relief? I…” I wasn’t forgotten, you want to cry to the heavens. “But how are you taking the news?”

“It’s…a lot to take in,” he says simply.

“Indeed it is,” you nearly mutter, squeezing yourself before letting your arms fall to your sides. “When this all blows over and you’re allowed to come down here again, we need to go on a date. Just, a long, relaxing, fun date.”

“I look forward to it.”

“Me too,” you say, a bitter smile crossing your lips as you once more turn your gaze to the heavens as your fingers once more find your charm. “We’ll add it to the stack of memories.”


	2. My Name's 9S

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've literally been working on this chapter for over a month now. I keep going back, rewriting things, then rewriting those rewritten things, etc. I realize I just have to upload this before I agonize so badly over it I decide it's all horrible and I just scrap it completely. So here it is, and I hope it's good because I feel like it could've been better? Eep.
> 
> It's very obvious where this chapter fits into the story :3
> 
> EDIT: Thank you so much to Coolguybest for pointing out my misnaming of Pod 153!

It was to be a routine survey mission. Gather updated map intel of the Abandoned Factory and, if possible, any inner working intel consisting of number of machine lifeforms created, what kind, and how many. Mapping the area would be easy enough, though totally unnecessary if only he’d be granted permission to tinker with the damn satellites. He was sure he could find a way to update and calibrate the things so they could at least send something other than gray and vague polygons with the occasional circle. 

Keeping a good distance from the factory, 9S gets to work comparing and updating the Bunker’s map intel, running slow circles around the structure in his flight unit until he’s satisfied with the, unsurprising, lack of change in the data. 

“Such a pain,” he breathes out, finding a safe, raised spot to land near the outer ridge of the factory. Settling down beside his flight unit and throwing his legs over the edge of the metal walkway, he takes a moment to simply give his general surroundings a good look. 

Filed in the archives as a human weapons factory, not much else was known aside from what little could be salvaged from the computers within before the machines overran the place. Most of the data consisted of shipping addresses and a few human names, understandably the ones who oversaw the factory’s functions way back when. It was a bit ironic having machines, the enemies of humanity, use a place that built weapons to protect humanity in the past. 

One thing 9S had to commend the machines for was the upkeep of the factory, however clumsy it was. In a way they kept a relic of humanity standing, and no matter how thoughtless or evil they were, keeping humanity’s mark upon the world could never be considered a sin.

“Not that I won’t ever hesitate to kill any one of you,” he comments aloud, allowing a smirk to pass his lips. “Time to finish this up and head home.” 

Tapping into the factory’s systems and easily bypassing what little security was put in place, he starts sifting through the camera feeds. What the machines used these security cameras for or even why eluded him, but it was undeniable that it made his mission much easier. As he catalogs the different types of machines being built, an odd movement from one of the cameras snags his attention. 

Squinting the best he can through the grain, his eyebrows shoot up as a figure that is undeniably not machine steps carefully across the screen. What was an android doing in the factory? The clothes weren’t YoRHa. Resistance? Why wasn’t Command notified? Unless it was an android with damaged logic circuits. No one in their right mind would venture seemingly undefended into the heart of a machine lifeform nest.

~*~*~

You weren’t deranged, though at times you felt like you were. No, curiosity had finally gotten the better of you and you, against better logic you admit, decided that cats can come back from stupid curiosity adventures so why couldn’t you? Granted you weren’t a cat nor did you have nine lives, but, well, you were nigh unkillable so that had to count for something, right? Besides, you knew how to defend yourself, especially against machines that looked more clunky than the advanced technology you were told they were.

It had always baffled you how these machine lifeforms, that looked more like a child had built them than a seemingly intelligent alien race, had managed to keep androids, who you had mistaken for actual people when you had woken up, at a stalemate for hundreds of years. With no one in the Resistance Camp forthcoming with any helpful information, you decided to roll up your metaphorical sleeves and dig up some answers yourself…which happened to consist of venturing into the Abandoned Factory you were stealthing your way through now.

Peering down the hallway and judging its safety, you step carefully and quietly, eyes darting to any sound or movement. You’d come across a couple small machines which you easily dispatched before they could send an alarm, but so far you weren’t any closer to finding anything to satiate your curiosity. Each step you take makes you wonder more if maybe this whole thing was a big mistake.

Reaching the next door and pressing the button to slide it open, you manage to put one foot inside before stopping dead, watching as every machine head swivels to look at you. 

A laugh bubbles through your chest, blood tingling through your veins as you immediately retract your foot. “Why, hello. Uh.” One step back. “Don’t mind me, just passing through.” Another step. “Good day to you all.”

The door slides shut a moment too late as you hear a mechanical cry cut short as you bolt. Retracing your steps and barreling through the last few doors you’ve entered, you come up short as you watch the next one lock.

You swear, banging your hand against the barrier. Turning and pressing your back against the metal, you frantically search for an alternate route while keeping one eye on the door ahead of you, nerves on end in preparation for what lies beyond it.

What you’re not prepared for is the door that had just locked to pop open, leaving you to nearly crash to the floor. “What-”

_“At the next juncture turn left!”_

Was that a voice over the speakers? There were speakers here? Shaking your head and finding your footing, you do as the voice says, making a sharp turn to the right and heaving yourself up the ladder you’re met with.

_“To the right! Left at the next turn!”_

You didn’t know who this voice belonged to but you cling to it desperately as you race through the factory. Nearly slamming into the back of an elevator, you try to calm your pounding heart as it closes and shutters to life. Pressing a hand against your chest, you keep your eyes on the entrance as you listen to the strain of the cables. 

~*~*~

There was no camera in the elevator, nor were there any speakers to warn you of the danger waiting outside the elevator’s destination. A group of Small Stubbies scattered with Medium Bipeds were waiting for the elevator. Either for you or by happenstance was up for debate since he had made sure to open dummy doors to throw off any observers, but he sucked in an anxious breath as he watches the elevator come to a halt and expose the figure within.

A part of him whispers to turn off the feed. With no weapon you were a lost cause, and as a Scanner there was no way he could hold his own against that many enemies. There was nothing more he could do from a distance, and the flight unit wouldn’t be able to maneuver efficiently within the factory itself. Unless you could somehow slide past all of the machines and get to safety, this was it.

Swallowing down the guilt, you leap into action a moment before 9S goes to wave the feed from his connection. Instead of being easy prey for the machines, _you_ were the one doing the killing. It was barbaric the way you tore limbs from one enemy to stab into the next, but your movements were fluid, sure, feet stepping you into a type of beautiful, deadly dance that he couldn’t tear his eyes from. You were a lethal river, flowing from one machine to the next until you had worked your way through, and around, to the other side of the ambush, jumping into the next room and dashing for the closest window before he could process your intent.

~*~*~

They were clumsy and predictable, the machines. Having analyzed the combat movements of these models forever ago, it took no time to make your way to the other side of the room, nor did it take much thought when you spotted the grimy window and an easy way out.

Making sure your path was clear, you dash forward, throwing your arms forward as you launch yourself to, and through, the now shattering window. Unable to judge the distance to the ground and thus unprepared for how close it was, you slam painfully against the concrete, feeling the rattle of your bones and the sudden emptiness in your lungs.

With no time to recover, you struggle to your knees as the sound of crunching glass rings through the air, signaling the approach of the pursuing machines. Desperately trying to take gulps of air to relieve the burn in your chest, you fight through the pain as you shuffle back, noting briefly the glass embedded in your forearm before glancing around for a weapon.

Just as your fingers curl around a rusty, broken pipe the sound of gunfire and the ensuing pops as they hit their targets greet your senses. Watching as the remaining machines fall, you glance up, body tensing for another fight as a miniature...plane? Jet, maybe? You didn’t know what it was, but as you struggle to rise as it drops toward you, a familiar voice momentarily halts your actions.

“I can lead you safely out of here but you’ll have to stay outside. I can’t cover you if you go back in.”

With your nod he’s back in the air, and it’s slow progress back to the Ruined City. More than just your forearm has been stabbed with glass, and while the smaller pieces were slowly being spat out as your body healed, the larger ones remained. It’s not until your feet hit grass and you’re able to take refuge in one of the rundown buildings that you take the time to extract the remaining shards. 

You’re just adding the last sliver of glass to the pile when you hear the footsteps. They quicken to stand in front of you, hands hovering briefly over your hunched form before rummaging in a pack. “I have staunching gel and logic virus vaccines. Just give me a moment.”

“There’s no need,” you say carefully, smiling up at the blindfolded boy and discreetly moving the worst of your wounds out of sight. “Thank you, though. For helping me.”

Giving what you can imagine is an analyzing stare through his black veil, he decides to trust your word and rocks back onto his heels. “Why were you in there? You had to have known it was dangerous.”

“I did,” you respond, eyes flicking away and down. “In hindsight, yeah, it was stupid.”

“That’s putting it lightly.”

Smiling, silence settles as the both of you consider your next words. Eventually, you’re the one to break the quiet. “I’m guessing you’re not from the Resistance? So you’d be a…YoRHa android?”

He doesn’t miss the way you sound out the name like it’s foreign to your tongue. “That’s right. My name’s 9S.”

You had heard of the strange names YoRHa went with. Or the lack of names, you should say. They were soldiers, sure, but giving them a designation for a name made them seem...less like a person and more like a droid. Which, if one thought about it, wasn’t too far off the mark in technical terms, though your scattered time interacting with Resistance members had you thinking more philosophical than technical when it came to modern androids. Well above the technology you had thought possible, Resistance members talked, laughed, hell, even mourned like human beings, and YoRHa was suppose to be even more advanced.

That made them more human than robot in your eyes.

“What should I call you, Miss…?” 

Blinking back to the present, you can’t help but to give an airy chuckle. “No formalities, please. [Name] is enough. It’s nice to meet you, 9S.” You’d offer a hand, but considering they were both covered in drying blood, you opt to instead nod in greeting. “I’ve never met a YoRHa android before. What’s with the blindfold?”  
With the tilt of his head and a smile lifting his lips, you find yourself focusing on their movement as he answers. “It’s a combat visor.” As if anticipating your next question, he continues, “They’re pretty useless outside of combat, though.”

“They don’t impair your vision at all?”

“Nope.”

“Huh.” Shifting slightly, you lean more comfortably against the aged wall. “I suppose if they did, none of you would wear them.” Running a hand slowly down one arm, you note the smooth, indented skin where a gash had been minutes ago. “So what were you doing in the factory?”

Settling down more comfortably himself, he leans back on his arms. “Doing a routine survey mission. Pretty boring, if you ask me.”

“Do you know a lot about the factory?” Hope flares dangerously in your chest. “About its past, or what the machines are doing there? …Or the machines in general?”

After a short pause he lets out a short hum of thought. “I suppose Resistance isn’t completely up to date with their records, but you don’t even know what the machines are doing there?”

“It’s not…” Taking a deep breath to buy time, you decide to tell half of the truth. “I know they congregate there, and considering it’s a factory it’s safe to assume they’re probably building more of themselves. I guess what I’m asking…” How much was safe to say? No android you’d met believed any human was left on the surface of the planet, but wouldn’t they start suspecting if you acted too oddly? “I guess I’m curious. About human history, and the history of everything we see in general.” _I’m curious of what happened while I was asleep. Why I was left behind._ “I thought maybe I could find some new information in the factory.” _Information that doesn’t seem just copied and pasted. Information that isn’t unquestionably accepted._ “I should have thought it out better, yes,” you add as you see the slight tilt in 9S’ lips. “I guess I just got…too impatient? Too curious?” _Too desperate?_

9S tilts his head to the side, hidden brows furrowing in confusion. Resistance or otherwise, all androids were still limited to their coding, no matter how subtle the restraints were. Models were coded and even built differently to fit the role they were meant to play, so how were you, an android who had just displayed a brilliant sense of combat, the tell signs of a Type B, happen to be so curious about the world? If 9S knew anything about most models, it was the infuriating lack of curiosity and questioning they exhibited.

If you were part of the Resistance, then you were an older android model. How old was debatable, but the older one got, the more malfunctions cropped up. It could be possible that you hadn’t had proper maintenance in some time, but to exhibit more advanced coding instead of regressive coding? To be curious and ask questions was a Scanner’s job, and his model was still fairly new and, admittedly, experimental. It was possible that an error had reworked your circuits for the better, but at that level? The odds of that were next to impossible. If a strange glitch in your logic circuits hadn’t caused your state of mind, then what had?

It’s not until you shift awkwardly and look away that he notices he’s been staring at you for some time in silence, and to your relief he looks away and clears his throat. “I, uh… I’d be more than happy to answer any question you have.”

“Proposal: Unit 9S should confirm Unit [Name]’s safety.”

You nearly jump out of your skin. 9S can’t seem to help the small chuckle that escapes his chest as you stare wide-eyed at the floating…thing not far from him. How did you miss that? It’s not like it was particularly small or even hard to see! It’s about as big as your torso!

It’s hard to not hear the humor in 9S’ voice as he introduces you. “This is Pod 153. Have you never seen a Pod before?”

“Nope,” you nearly squeak out, slowly narrowing your eyes as curiosity takes over. “How are you floating like that?”

Pod 153 obliges your question, although the answer goes in one ear and out the other as it launches into technology you don’t know the first thing of. The gist, however, seems to be some sort of anti-gravity device. 

“It’s the same technology that was originally contemplated for our weapons, but eventually scrapped in favor of using magnetism,” 9S adds thoughtfully, prompting an eyebrow raise from you as you shift your eyes to him. When he catches your gaze, he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Cool,” you say, and mean it. While you may not understand all the nuances of technology, one perk of waking up to a far future was seeing what was once trapped in sci-fi stories and in the minds of crazy scientists. 

Before anyone can say anything more, however, Pod 153 interrupts by ringing like a telephone, displaying a small holographic loading bar before quickly being replaced with the face of a blond haired woman. You manage to stare for all of two seconds before remembering your position and quickly ducking your head.

The questions of who she is and why she’s calling are quickly answered as 9S gets reprimanded for not only abandoning his post but also leaving the flight unit unattended. “Do you know how expensive and time consuming those are to make?” she says with a tone as cold as ice. Quite a lot if you had to guess, from the way 9S sighs and the woman scoffs and continues her rant. You’re not sure how long the call lasts in total, but it ends with how 9S should be “thankful for such a caring Operator” who was “willing to bend the rules” as long as “he remembered he owed her a favor and didn’t worry her like that again.” With a very surprised and teasing, “Are you saying you actually care about me?” from 9S, you swear you hear the punch to the End Call button in place of a reply.

There’s an icy silence as 9S lets out another sigh, this one longer and more pained. “Who would have thought? She really does care about me,” he murmurs, rolling his shoulders into a shrug before training his attention back onto you. Rising to his feet and dusting himself off, he offers his hand to you. “If I don’t make my way back to the Bunker soon, well…” 

Glancing briefly at his hand and flashing an apologetic smile, you rise on your own. It wasn’t anything personal, but you weren’t sure how different you felt from androids and didn’t want to fumble your way through that particular conversation. “Hop to it before you get into some serious trouble.”

Letting his hand fall awkwardly back to his side, he shifts his weight as he says, “Will you be be able to make it back okay?”

You gesture to the stairs. “Where did you park that thing?”

“Huh?”

“The flight unit? Where’d you leave it?”

“Up on the roof.”

You start making your way to the flight of stairs on steady legs, throwing 9S a smile as you pass him by. “The least I can do is see my savior off.”

“Er, sure, but—”

“9S, right?” You pause at the first step, looking back to make sure the Scanner was following. “I’m not usually at the Resistance Camp, but, I’ll hang around if it means you were serious about before.” You were taking a very serious and very dangerous leap of faith here, but just as you continued up the steps to 9S’ flight unit, you continue your train of thought. “About answering any question I might have, that is. And in order for me to do that, it means I have to make it safely to Camp.”

It’s easy to tell when your words settle, the eager reply from the YoRHa soldier heavy with his smile. “It’s a promise then, [Name]!”


	3. One Step Closer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as I sat with my notes pondering what little event I wanted to write about next, this scene decided to pop into my head and I just had to go with it. Kaine's hut is probably my favorite place in Automata. You guys should totally listen to Kaine [Salvation] while reading this.
> 
> Also while looking through my notes, I realized I don't have as many moments planned as I thought and wish I did, soooo.... If any of you have anything cute you wanna see, or are curious about anything, let me know! I might just use your idea (and credit you accordingly, of course)!
> 
> Also also, thank you all _so much_ for all the comments and kudos! You all don't know how much it means to me! Can you believe, even with only two chapters, this work has gotten almost 700 hits?? You guys are absolutely amazing!  <3

“Is this elevator even safe?”

“I assure you it is.” Pause. “For now.”

“That’s not very reassuring.”

“Well, I’m still alive. It’s a bit rickety but it works.”

Tilting his head uncertainly, 9S turns to you. “Why are you always venturing into things you shouldn’t?”

“Who ever said I shouldn’t? Is there someone’s name on it?” Another pause. “There might not actually be a name, but Emil gave me the key, so, in a way, he said I could. That I was welcome to.” When 9S’ lips thin, you add quickly, “Hey, you run around fighting machines left and right. If I have to worry about you, then it’s only fair that you worry about me.”

“Yeah, but if you die, that’s it. You don’t have backups like I do.”

Your hand moves to your necklace, fingers wrapping gently around the pendant. “How many times do I tell you that I’ll be fine?”

If you weren’t moving, you were thinking. If you were thinking, you were one step closer to that yawning abyss that beckoned when you stumble. 9S doesn’t know this, not yet. He’s still figuring out how you tick, how all the puzzle pieces he has fits in the riddle that is you. Right when he thinks he has the finished picture, you toss him a new piece and he ends up having to rearrange everything again. It doesn’t help that sometimes he has to restart some parts completely with incomplete or hazy memories, but it’s not necessarily a bad thing. Regardless of how many times you throw him for a loop, you remain a constant in his life and he finds his way back to you every time.

Thoughts of you set him at ease, calmed his raging thoughts and made his confusing and somewhat meaningless life worth something. You don’t know how he also has to stay moving, keep his curious mind from jumping into those helpless, circular thoughts of existence and purpose and how that same drive always leads him to the same dead end time and time again. 

In time you’ll both know the ins and outs of each other, but for now? Both of you find happiness in the simple presence you mutually give, a wanted constant in a never ending cycle of life and death. So he takes this ever confusing piece of yourself and lays it down to think about later, opting to instead sigh and say, “That doesn’t change the fact that you’re kind of reckless.”

Giving him your trademark huff and pout, something he secretly adores, you tug his hand and promptly change the subject. “Just c’mon already. You’ll love what I’m about to show you, I promise.”

He can’t help but notice how super old the key you take out of your pocket is, or how the elevator doors squeal open in protest. The only reason he steps into that elevator at all is because he trusts you. You may be a thrill seeker, but you’d never intentionally put him in any danger. Questions instantly pop into his head when the elevator shutters down instead of up, and when it stills and you throw your hands over his eyes? Curiosity is practically making his limbs buzz.

The irony of covering a pair of eyes that are already blindfolded doesn’t pass you up, making you chuckle as you say, “Alright, almost there.”

The sight never fails to take your breath away. Beautiful flowers that never stop glowing, encompassing a hut that drips with melancholy. There’s a gentle and delicate feel to the whole scene, a little bubble all its own in the world you live in. Making sure to lead 9S through a path between the flowers, you gently lead him to a stop right in the middle.

Without a word you lower your hands and watch as 9S’ breath hitches.

“Whoa,” he breathes out, turning slowly. “Whose house is that?”

“I don’t know,” you respond. “But it’s definitely important to Emil.”

9S, being the curious cat he always is, makes his way to the hut. You follow at a distance, slightly reluctant to get too close to something with so much obvious importance. The Scanner just looks, fingers hovering over the small structure as he searches for any hint of its history. It’s something you’ll both ponder about until it drives you crazy, eventually caving and hoping Emil miraculously remembers who owned it.

Returning his attention back to you, he drinks in the sight of your figure illuminated by the flowers. Every slight dip in your features are highlighted by the light, shadows dancing across your expression to emphasize that small smile and glowing, soft eyes only meant for him. Absently he curses the fact you didn’t warn him to come prepared for the picture he has to desperately burn into his memory.

He finds himself moving, stepping close and gently drawing you into him. Your body tenses with surprise, a nervous excitement tingling through your veins as his arms lock behind the small of your back. It was a dance, these emotions. Whenever you got the courage to close the distance between you two, you’d lose your nerve and twirl away, only for 9S to catch your hand and lead you right back to him. When he’d lean in, you’d forget how to breathe but find the uncertainty weighing you down, a heel stumbling into his toes as you frantically try to mold to this unfamiliar and scary tune. So he’d go to take a step back, only to watch as you stubbornly follow, catching you both in an eternal waltz as you try to find the right tempo.

You were back on that dance floor as he attempts to lead. A part of you was already wavering, losing the beat in rhythm with his heart. It’d be so easy to slide out of his arms with a light comment or two, directing his attention away from the fact that he could dip you and you’d lean for the kiss. You’re so close to stumbling, you can feel it, but instead of stepping away to hide the embarrassment like you always do you’re the one to step past that invisible line, pressing your forehead against the crook of his neck as you link your fingers behind his back.

You nearly abort when you feel his sharp inhale. Standing like a plank of wood, you struggle desperately to keep your cool as his breath evens, the arms around your waist tightening ever so slightly. It’s his turn to falter, feet scuffing the dance floor at this sudden change of pace. Casting a line deep into his panic for any shred of rational thought, he finds himself taking the first topic of normalcy he can grab.

“I remember you talking about flowers before.” It’s hard not to shiver as his breath feathers across your ear.

As desperate as he is to find a sense of calm, you respond quickly, “I didn’t even know it was possible they could glow. I was kind of hoping you knew what kind of flowers these were.”

Pod 153, who has been minding its own business while orbiting the two of you, decides now is a good time to speak up. “They are called lunar tears. There is debate over its origin; some documents state that they were artificially created thousands of years ago while others state they were born from a natural mutation of the Campanula, better known as the bellflower.”

“Huh. I kind of wish I had a floating database.”

It’s a weird sensation, physically feeling the chuckle lifting his chest. “It’s not as great as you think. For example, Pods don’t have the capacity to read social situations.” Was that slight irritation in 9S’ voice? 

You puff out a laugh. “Hey, it’s trying its best.” 

9S is warm. Warmer than you expected an android to be, though considering they are super computers it makes sense that they’d be pretty hot. What you don’t know is that the extra heat actually comes from 9S’ processors trying to straighten out the flood of emotions hijacking his system. It becomes even worse when you let your observation slip from your tongue, resulting in both of you burning to unprecedented temperatures. The cherry on the cake?

“Analysis: Unit 9S’ internal temperature is reaching critical heights. Proposal: This unit should conduct maintenance as soon as possible.”

You burst into hysterical laughter the same moment 9S rounds on his Pod.

“Pod, stop talking until we’re back on the surface. That’s an order.”

“But,” you choke out, feeling the tears pressing against your eyes, “it’s just looking out for you.”

While you can’t see the glare he gives you, the tight line of his lips is all the message you need. It doesn’t stop you from laughing even harder, though most of the volume comes from the extreme embarrassment twisting your stomach into an unrecognizable knot. 

The Scanner’s anger quickly dissipates into a sullen disappointment. Both of you _finally_ manage to start making some progress only for his Pod, of all damn things, to ruin the moment! He was more than tempted to tamper with its programming to prevent anything like this from happening again, though the earful he’d get if anyone found out… Was it worth it? Maybe. Probably.

Something had definitely shifted in your relationship though, that was undeniable. It was obvious in the way you confidently took his hand to lead him back to the elevator, in the way he was able to slip his digits between yours. Neither of you knew what you were doing and neither of you cared. You’d both continue to spin around the dance floor until that inevitable dip happened.


	4. First Grave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shhh, I know it's been way too long since I've updated this >.>' I'm so sorry. I haven't abandoned this though, see? :D All of your guys' recommendations are still saved and written down, don't worry! But I'm always up for more, so never hesitate to let me know what you'd like to see! I may just use it!
> 
> But seriously guys, this fic has been inactive and yet there's 1600+ hits and over 100 kudos. That blows my mind! Thank you so very much!

It’s like you were being torn apart.

Blood coated your hands, slipping between your fingers as you brought him close, ignoring the way the liquid soaked into your clothing as you clutched him desperately. This wasn’t happening, this couldn’t be happening. His body was still warm, his expression akin to peaceful as you shakily wipe the red from his face.

“What have you done?” you whisper through sobs, one arm wrapped around his shoulders as another pressed his head against your chest. “What have you done?”

She didn’t respond, just stood there with a slick blade and stoic face, the pressure of tears already disappearing from her eyes. The android owed you no explanation, couldn’t without giving away who she was, what she was for. Silence was her order, her mission.

She couldn’t even utter an apology. What good would it do, when she knew how hollow it was?

Your sobs echoed between the trees, smothered by the leaves. It was ridiculous. He’d come back in a new body, you knew that, but something didn’t feel right. It hadn’t for a while, not since he first showed up without an inkling of who you were. Memories seemingly erased, like they’d never existed, precious recollections now one-sided. This was a different loss, a different kind of death. Why was YoRHa killing their own? Where were his memories going?

This was your one chance to find answers, even if it was by the one woman you now harbored hate for.

Raising your eyes to 2B, you do your best to steel your gaze, harden your voice. “Explain.”

She stands perfectly still, like her blade isn’t dripping the blood of your beloved.

“YoRHa back up memories. He came back to me without knowing who I was, without knowing who _you_ were. Twice. _Explain._ ”

Shifting her weight, 2B sizes you up before pressing her lips together. “It’s classified.”

“Don’t you give me that shit, 2B,” you nearly spit. “Are you going to tell me the blood on your blade is from some other android? That 9S stabbed himself?” Your voice cracks as the sob shudders through your chest. “That it was a convenient mistake that his memory backups failed twice? Don’t mark me for a fool, android.”

You’d been full of laughter, smiles. A sharp mind danced behind your careful eyes, your words light and honest. But this? This version of yourself, clutching the corpse of 9S with tears carving into your face? The way you glared at her with a hidden promise of revenge, wobbly lips betraying the heaviness in your tone? This wasn’t the girl she’d come to know, the girl 9S talked about.

She was ruining more than one good thing.

Closing her eyes, the Executioner exhales slowly, artificial heart thrumming through metal veins. “He knew too much.”

“What?”

“He knew too much so he had to die.” It’s almost painful the way the words claw out of her throat, the way they try to thrum her vocal box from the monotone she places it in. What was wrong with her? Emotions were prohibited, so why did her hands beg to shake?

“Knew too much of what?” you ask, knowing the woman wouldn’t respond. Knowing she probably had no idea. “So what, you’re ordered to kill him and that’s that? Then why join him? Why partner with him?”

“Orders are orders.”

You snort. “Right. And this is what they lead to.” He was heavier than you expected, like any dead body was. No matter how much your arms shook with his weight, you couldn’t bring yourself to let go. Even if you’d be eventually seeing him again, this 9S was gone, the memories you made with him tossed to the void.

The communicator and the necklace, still foreign and new against your neck, were the only physical remnant of what was once again lost. Two gifts from a gift giver who wouldn’t remember they had ever existed, the intent and feeling behind each one forever forgotten.

Pressing your cheek against his dirtied hair, you ask, “Now what?” You knew what was next. A new body would be given to an altered 9S. Same personality in a hollowed mind, unaware of the fate awaiting him. Unaware of the relic aching for his return, of the partner hungering for his death.

An endless cycle of life and death.

“You know what will happen if you tell him this, don’t you?” Her words are biting, cold, calculating, hiding the sadness and weight that threatened to crush her. When you don’t answer, she presses. “If he knows what I am, he’ll have to die. If he knows what awaits him, he’ll have to die.”

Hugging him tighter and wishing you could curl up against the world, the secret you’ve stumbled upon and the realization that she’s _right_ nearly crushing your heart as you swallow, you silently apologize as tears soak into 9S’ face in an endless waterfall. Inaction led to his death. Action led to his death. There was no saving him, no way to warn him against the danger without speeding up the inevitable.

And now you were a part of it. Watching, knowing you could do nothing. You were no match against 2B, and even if you were, YoRHa would just place her into another body, send her back out. Maybe even paint you as a danger, another target to be eliminated.

It was suffocating.

2E isn’t sure if she should speak, doesn’t know what she’d say if she did. So instead she leaves, quietly turning and stepping away from the horror she’d created: the girl whose world she’d shattered and the life of the man she’d taken. Leaving you to sob until you’re numb, you smear red across your cheeks as you wipe the tears and finally lay him on the ground.

He deserved a burial. Who knew what happened to the other bodies 2B had slain. Left to rot in the dark recesses of the world, maybe? You doubted the bodies mattered, as long as they weren’t found. Ripping a good chunk of bark off a nearby tree you set to work, the motions helping to distract from the heartache as you dig your first grave. How many more would you have to count before an answer to this problem was found? Was there even an out to this?

You couldn’t know. No one could. Dropping a decent sized stone as a marker, you inhale deeply before following the steps 2B had taken, detouring to the waterfall to wash off the blood, curling up in the middle of your shattered heart as you just drowned in the misery. You had to grieve now, get the tears and shock out of your system before having to pretend like nothing was wrong, like nothing had happened, like you weren’t distraught over having to build your relationship yet again from the ground up.


End file.
